Love Is Never Ending
by HarvestMoonRacoon
Summary: It took Rock Lee to bring Temari back to life. Or, at very least, remind her how to love. LeeTemari oneshot. Crack pairing and a whole lot of fluff. Songfic to Brad Paisley's 'Love Is Never Ending'.


**Author's Note: Well, this is a songfic I wrote a few.. minutes earlier. I was determined to do a a fic to this song, and I finally did it! And, it's one of my favorite pairings! HOO! Lee/Tema fluff, yo! -pumps fists in the air- There really aren't enough good fanfictions with crack Lee pairings out there, un. And the song- it's god-awful adorable. Very, very romantic, and horribly sweet. I reccomend hearing it, so that you can grasp the full extent of the music moulding with the fanfiction. **

**Well, enjoy, everyone- I'm watching the horribly twisted life story of Marilyn Monroe on LMN, so there might be a child abuse ficcy up soon. God only knows what I'll think of next.**

**'Love Is Never Ending' copyright Brad Paisley. I just wrote the fanfiction around it. **

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_Seasons come and seasons go,  
One day sun, the next day snow;  
Flowers die and flowers grow,  
But, love is never-ending_

He loved her for her hair. From the first time he'd lain eyes on her, it had captivated his attention. It was shimmering, cornflower blonde, framing her face in stringy bangs and sprigging into wild pigtails behind her. He thought it was fast and untroublesome, and didn't take long to jerk into place in the mornings. It was, in an existential way, a reflection of her: She didn't spend her valuable time on things that didn't mean a thing in the long run, things like hair and being polite. It was rough and spiked, like the barbarous words she flung at him like sharpened senbon. It was a weakness she couldn't afford, and a hindrance she simply 'made due' with. If anybody knew about troublesome hindrances, it was him, and hair was just one of those things up-and-coming Shinobi didn't have the time to think about: There were techniques to learn, odds to beat, bad blood to avenge for the names of forefathers they'd never known. There were national ties to sever, and bridges to burn- Scowls to throw across arenas at green-clad weirdos. Besides her sunny ponytails, everything about the Suna kunzite screamed what even her razor-thin lips couldn't, like a conversation between her and just him, the only person who was studying her body language. The way she shrugged and slumped- she wanted to be left alone, but she wanted to be noticed. Her mouth screamed to be ignored, but her every gesture screamed to be heard. She dressed in fishnet to be seen, no matter how her words contradicted her. Maybe he was the only one who saw past her subconscious battle with herself- She knew he saw something that nobody else did. Her lips reproached him for his weakness, while her eyes belayed that he had, indeed, found her weakness: consideration.

From that point on, no matter how she insulted him as he held his defeated teammate to his chest, he watched the rest of her body speak for her. The truth lied underneath the underneath, in her case.

You can't kill it with goodbye,  
It always finds a place to hide;  
Inside your heart, for your whole life-  
Love is never-ending

Back in Suna, she set her fan across her white skirt, and set to scrubbing the caked blood from the spokes of her weapon. The paper was ripped; It would need sewing. Uchiha's Katon Gokakyu had singed one of the tips. One of the support beams was fractured in the center, grinding horribly against the moon-studded backdrop. The handle was cracked- Oh, it would just be easier to get herself a new one! This one was just too destroyed to be repaired. It had served her well and long, but it had been invaded, and rendered defect.

But, in a way, she couldn't help but feel that the part of her she buried and exhumed time and time again was mirrored in the wind weapon spread across her lap. Her heart had been hard and imposing, never hindering her as she wrought life as the little-known daughter of the Kazekage. No matter how fiercely she fought, her heart remained untouchable by any enemy. No one could make her love: She'd learned long ago that nobody could be loved in the way she wanted to give affection and receive it back. She couldn't hug Gaara, no matter how much she still thought of him as her "little" brother. Kankuro might as well have been as far as the moon from her: Her parents were. Little by little, like the fan she'd thought indestructible, though, that knowledge was chipping away at rock-hard-need-no-one Temari's innermost psyche.

Like her trademark armament, the outmost lining of her heart was broken: She could no longer summon a wall of wind to protect herself, nor could she triumphantly wave her heartlessness to remind herself of how strong she thought that she was. A month straight from home as sleeper agents for her country had burned Temari, both emotionally and physically. She felt as though a support beam within her, like the one on her weapon, had snapped in half, leaving her dangling with the constant grit of her own self-repute scratching in her head every conscious moment. If a girl couldn't even love her brothers, how could she love herself, or anyone else? She felt at an utter low, both for trying to staunch a normal human emotion, and for being a fatherless, motherless little girl who'd grown up too fast. But, unlike her fan, she couldn't just get a new heart; She'd have to make due with this broken, bleeding one.

She actually began to cry, and angrily chucked the plastic-and-paper fan across her room; She didn't care if it made a dent in the peach-painted wall from the legendary strength that had sent it flying. Hot tears had spilled between her fingers (She was still trying to hide the shame of crying, even than- She really was hopeless) as she pondered the bottomless lifetime before her filled with that hardened, shattered heart, and the inability to love anyone or anything.

She'd cried until a servant had knocked gently against the door, stating that her presence was required downstairs for some well-wishers to her youngest brother, the new Kazekage.

Of course- tonight was Gaara's inauguration. She had to put on her black dress and cock a smile at her angry, embittered village. The thought alone made her sick to her stomach; She was becoming another heartless, rajput Sand ninja. She brushed the dirt from her skirt, and tried to compose herself enough for the guests. She didn't, really.

When the lights have all gone down,  
It'll still be hangin' 'round-  
Even when you think it's lost, it can still be found

As she'd suspected, the pageant of welcoming the new Kage to his rank was completely miserable. A dozen or so Leaf Genin were in the crowd, very important guests at the ceremony. She'd given them all a tempered look, and pretended to be proud of her brother. Hidden Sand was all about pretending: Pretending to be bulletproof, when they were venerable, pretending to be impenetrable, when they were riddled with weaknesses, and pretending to be fierce, when they all were just scared little children.

Temari played Pretend for the cheering crowds, and they Pretended to be thrilled to have a new Kazekage. Gaara Pretended to be honored by accepting the title; Kankuro didn't even pretend to smile.

The only ones who didn't seem to be pretending were those grinning ninjas in the front row: The ones that weren't a part of the _bunraku_ merry-go-'round that was Sunagakure's dirty little secret parade. She ticked them off out of boredom, using the nicknames she'd assigned them in the Chuunin exams she'd infiltrated. Orange Idiot, Pink-Haired Slut, Duckbutt Head, Angst Sorry Sob, Bun Headed Weakling, and-

She'd turned bright pink underneath the layer of foundation she'd painted on. The homely Prince Charming who'd mouthed off at her after she'd flattened his female teammate. He was still as wide-eyed and ugly as ever, hair and eyebrows polished to the point that the glimmer from them nearly blinded bystanders. He was the most joyful of the group, as well as the one who stood out the most- But, than again, _Lee_, (she was so proud that she'd remembered his name. Usually, she forgot faces so fast that it didn't do anything credit to take their name) was always the loudest, in both talk and dress, manners and temperament.

She didn't remember how many faceless shells of people she'd chatted with, or how many glasses of champagne she'd swallowed before a bandaged hand signaled against her shoulder, and Lee huffed into her ear that he was ready to blow the joint. Temari had nearly giggled aloud at his alliteration, before she wound through the crowd with him at her heels to a break in the fence, where they both disappeared to the marketplace, nearly devoid of vendors due to the 'celebrations' going on. They'd bought ice cream cones, something Temari still gave herself the pleasure of doing, and plopped to a green, paint-chipped bench to swing their legs and discuss various matters. Lee was, surprisingly, quite charming, and more than a little cute: As cute as those calendar pictures of kittens in a basket. He gingerly kissed his strawberry cone, and grinned pink-rimmed cheeks at her as she slucked the liquid remains of her chocolate-chocolate-chip from the waffle cone.

They talked about everything, and talked about nothing, past the night and into the awakening of the city the next morning.

When every memory has been made,  
And the pages start to fade,  
And every prayer you ever prayed is heaven bound,  
When you think the ride is over,  
You're back at the beginning-  
Love is never-ending

Lee made the excuse to visit the next morning, before the rest of his friends finished packing their packs for the three-day trip back to Konohagakure. On the terrace outside of the _shouji_ screens that led to her bedroom, Lee had thanked her profusely for a good time. Her white bathrobe hugged around her, Temari nodded. She was the smallest bit uncomfortable about her hair, which was hanging in long waves down her back. She was too bloodstained and dead on the inside to be anything beautiful, she knew, and she wound herself up into a mental fit about him noticing it. Lee couldn't be that shallow, could he? He'd been so sweet and conversational the night before- If he couldn't see her inner beauty, or what shred of it might have survived her lifetime, Temari would have lost all hope in him- and herself, really.

He'd smiled one of those blindingly adorable smiles, and she'd tried to return a fraction of the cheer that seemed to radiate off of his very body. It didn't work.

"I had a very good time with you, Temari-san. Perhaps next time I am in Konohagakure…"

He didn't finish his sentence. The next moment, her eyes were darting to her shoulder, as Lee reached out bandaged fingers to gently stroke her tresses, curly from the steam-filled shower she'd just taken. Another instant, and she was suddenly tasting the warmth of lip against hers. Her fingers had loosened from the death grip she'd had on the front of her bathrobe, cotton teasingly splaying to almost-reveal the swells of her breasts.

Before she'd truly comprehended what was occurring, Lee was stepping back, large eyes widened far past even their normal degree of being bugged out. Gaunt cheeks flapped open and closed like a fish's jowls, as the raven-haired boy began sputtering out a strangled apology for his impulsive maneuver. Gai-sensei would castrate him, if he had seen what he'd just done to his newfound friend- and one he'd only so recently met, at that!

"I'm sorry- Temari-Chan.. You are… Just, very beautiful." was the lame apology, before he swept around and scuttled under the shrub line around her small porach, leaving her disheveled and partially-covered from the chest up.

In spite of all of the inner blabbering she'd done about hating him if he loved her body, it seemed as though her memory from the past seven minutes and back had been completely wiped away, leaving no trace of any emotion but one. She should have felt invaded; She should have felt insulted, really- She'd lost her first kiss to a dorky, eyebrow endowed geek from a foreign village. She should have torn after him, and ripped his bowl cut out by it's roots.

She might have done and felt any number of these things- if she hadn't been too preoccupied with the whole new array of sensations exploding in the pit of her stomach.

She turned, and stiffly strode back to the French doors to her room. At the last second, she turned to face the rising sun over the jagged claw-like tops of the cliffs surrounding her dessert village.

He had turned around, too. She grinned him one of her famously seductive little beams, hugged her cotton robe over her suntanned shoulder, and slid the paper screen shut behind her.

When a man and woman start growin' old,  
The fire of passion may grow cold:  
But, what they got still warms their soul-  
Love is never-ending

Lee was one of the fastest Shinobi in Konohagakure, which was good for the commute; Meaning, he could make the three-day trip to Hidden Sand in roughly five hours, if he opened a few of his Inner Gates. It was stressing on his still-broken limb, but to him, it was worth the trip. And Temari always used a medical ninjutsu to null the pain for their visits.

He brought her his favorite movies, which they camped out on the living room couch to watch together; She bought wild varieties of ice cream, which they took turns tasting straight from the containers. They always had a pillow fight, which ended in a tangled pile of limbs as they hit the floor, wrestling among dropped pillows and empty paper containers as they mercilessly tickled each other. There were tears, yes- Tears of joy. They were the best tears Temari had ever cried, and the screams of laughter were the sweetest that had ever come to her tongue- Ah, Lee. His innocent cackles and hopelessly corny jokes rang through the night, between spoonfuls of chocolate-almond-crunch, and throaty kisses that took her breath away. It was his wide eyes and cute little mouth that carried her through her days, as the bloodshed of her Shinobi life ground her into a pile of exhausted angst. Those kisses, gentle and sweet, were enough to convince her that days were worth living. If they had carried it too far, Temari would have worried that their perfect, innocent relationship would have given way: Therefore, she interrupted those sessions where he backed her into the corner of the couch with a sharp pillow or spoonful of ice cream to the face. They always ended their evenings with Temari seated between Lee's legs, his arms encircling 'round her waist and her head tilted against his collarbone, sound asleep in the taijutsu prodigy's arms. Slipping away as dawn broke was always a challenge, more emotionally than physically for him. He'd leave her a silken pile of sleeping skin, trying to capture the last whiff of her honeysuckle shampoo for the entire trip back to Konohagakure. Sometimes, he'd simply bury his face in her undone locks, and Temari would have to shoo him from the Kazekage's home before Kankuro came bumbling down for a late breakfast and happened upon them.

His leaving that one particular morning set a particular feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. It turned out to be right. Lee didn't come back the next night. Or the night after that. Or the night after that. Or the night after that. Or the night after tha-

He got word to his hysterical girlfriend days later: He was being offered a surgery that would save his limbs, but would possess only a fifty percent chance of survival. She nearly went across the village and killed Gaara; At that moment, she loved Lee more than any sibling bound by lines of hatred to her. She loved Lee enough to wish that she could take back every foul word she'd hurled at him when he'd saved that Tenten girl from a long fall. She loved him enough to take that pain, and suffer it herself, rather than see her dreamer have his future crushed-

… And, there it was. She loved him.

She loved the way he laughed. The way he lived. The way he kept her alive with every smile and tender kiss. The way he'd fixed her heart, like the way she'd tirelessly worked to fix her old, broken fan. It had been long, arduous work, breaking what Temari had built up in the rubble of her pathetic life- But, Lee had done. An unlikely savior, in the form of necking sessions on an old vinyl couch, and that oh-so-powerful ability of his to simply restore what Temari had always longed for.

She eyed the fan she had spent sleepless nights laboring over: It's stitched backdrop and new, shining beams smiled back at her. She bolted up, determined to make Konoha in less that the usual three days.

It keeps goin' on and on,  
Long after we're all gone away--

Time may change what you believe,  
But, one day, the truth will set you free

Just have faith, and you will see-

She nearly made pudding out of that Sakura-bitch's head when she, eyeing the Sand kunzite curiously, informed her that he was still in Recovery. The bad news was that the medic-in-training's body made a new door to the ICU ward of Konohagakure Shinobi Hospital when Temari threw her into it. Oops.

He was so still and quiet that she was sure he was dead- She was sure that every inch of progress tying her sanity down had just come undone. Those bitter tears had welled up again, and this time, there was no Lee to brush them off, and kiss the fears away. He was so deathly still that she automatically assumed that worst-case scenario. She's run for three days to see her- her- more than boyfriend, more than love die on a hospital bed in a room devoid of that life that he radiated.

And just when she thought she was going to go over the edge, just when life was too much, just when she was staring down the barrel of a hopeless future- A hand met her shoulder, twice saving her in the two months since she'd been changed forever by the Chuunin exams. Twice saving Temari from the mire, and placing her back on solid ground. Twice reminding her how to love, when there was nobody **to** love.

"You are- so beautiful, Temari-Chan." he said in a strangled, huffing voice that reeked of anesthesia gas. This time, she gripped his hand as it stroked her shoulder. Than, carefully, she tugged at the black tie around one of her bottom pigtails. When a wave of sunny blonde rolled down her shoulder, he leered beneath the bandages crisscrossing his face, and parted his mouth as sunlight slashed through the tiny window to their left, framing Temari's face as she bent over him.

She kissed him awake in the recovery, just like he'd kissed her alive when she had been dead and broken; He'd reminded her how to love, and that was just what she'd needed than, and always would need. He'd given her something more than she deserved: life, in the dull shafts of gray through their grim lives. Because in that perpetual darkness, there were streaks of sunlight to light the way, and a hand to guide her down that lonely, predetermined path set out before her.

Temari never wore her hair in pigtails again.

Love is never-ending..  
Love is never-ending

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**A/N: Yeah, yeah- Total crack. But, I loved it. Didn't you? You didn't? Well, say that in your review, if you'd like, as long as you review this. Thanks for reading, by the way! LEETEMARI SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH, AND YOU KNOW IT!**


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